Luck
by xxliveforever17xx
Summary: When Andy finds herself targeted by a Mexican drug cartel, Sam is assigned to be her protection detail, causing tensions and sparks to fly.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys!_

_This story idea came to me a couple days ago and I thought it would be a really interesting one to write, so even though I'm still getting used to being back at school and have massive loads of homework, I just had to start this. _

_On a side note, who's excited for the two-hour season finale? I CANNOT wait, I'm beside myself with anticipation and excitement! We better get some good sexy Sandy time, or so help me...=)  
_

_Anyways, please review, they mean so much to me and make me very happy! Hope you all enjoy! xx

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Sam had never believed in superstition, but half a year of knowing Andy McNally had him second guessing his original belief.

He often found himself marveling at the impossible situations she found herself in. Held at gunpoint - multiple times. Part of a hostage situation where she had forgotten to load her gun. Having her training officer get shot by a child pedophile and almost getting shot herself. Getting choked to near death by an escaped prisoner.

Sam wondered just how many mirrors Andy had broken in her lifetime to warrant that much bad luck.

And now, on top of everything that had happened to her previously, she was now being targeted by a Mexican drug cartel. Apparently gunning down one of their own didn't sit too well with the gang, even if you were a cop. Of course, Epstein and Williams were being targeted too, since they had been on patrol with Andy when it had all happened. Epstein just had his own horrible luck, and Noelle had been the one to actually pull the trigger, so it wasn't just Andy. But still, his rookie had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Typical.

So now here he was, on guard duty to make sure nothing happened to her. He didn't mind watching her at all, actually, but he thought Best would have had more sense than to assign him to protective detail for a female officer. A female officer who was his rookie. His rookie with whom he was romantically entangled with, to an extent. Frank was a good white shirt, but he seemed to lack in the personal relationship common sense area.

"I don't want you here, Sam," Andy called, her voice muffled by the door that separated the two of them.

"Do you think I want to be here either, McNally? I'd much rather be at the Penny instead of babysitting you," he said, slightly exasperated.

"Yeah, well, there's probably some beer in the fridge. Help yourself." Andy really didn't want Sam in her house, at night. Things with Luke had just been broken off a couple weeks ago, and while they were on amicable terms, he hadn't been exactly thrilled to hear that Sam Swarek would be her protective detail. She distinctly remembered him muttering something to the extent of "Swarek always has the best fucking luck", or something along those lines.

"Sam?" she called tentatively. She had forgotten to grab her clothes from her bedroom before taking a shower. She couldn't exactly walk out in the hallway with her training officer watching her with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.

"What, McNally?" His voice sounded rough, even to his ears. The sound of the running water from the shower had driven him crazy with thoughts of his rookie in there. Naked.

"Close your eyes." She realized the command sounded absurd.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Um, I kinda forgot my clothes in my bedroom. So can you, you know, not look?" Her attempts at making the situation less awkward failed miserably.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Just make it quick." Oh God, if the sound of running water had made him crazy, the mental image of her half dressed did nothing to ease his discomfort. Still, he couldn't help himself when he heard the bathroom door open. He looked in the direction of the noise, and glimpsed his rookie with nothing but a white towel wrapped around her. He quickly looked away, but it was too late. Various scenarios were already running rampant through his mind.

Andy quickly shut the door to her bedroom. Discarding the towel, she contemplated what to wear. Things with Sam had been strained since she and Luke had broken up. She knew they were in an impossible limbo - neither wanted to make the first move. And according to common sense, not to mention workplace rules, no move could, or _should_ be made.

But it was late, and the emotional exhaustion that she was experiencing from the fallout of the past few days' events had addled her brain with confusion regarding everything...including Sam.

She pulled out a comfy, extra large Blue Jays tee shirt that came down to her mid-thigh and black underwear. It was useless to dress any other way - the night couldn't get any more awkward. She looked in the mirror, temporarily satisfied with the image looking back at her. She didn't look sexy at all. In fact, with the baggy shirt and wet hair, she almost looked like a drowned rat.

She let out a deep breath and walked out towards the living room. At the sound of her footsteps, Sam turned around, and for a split second, his mind went blank. Then a single thought emerged.

Andy McNally was breathtakingly beautiful.

With the liberal amount of leg she was showing, along with her damp hair that had just begun to curl at the ends and the slight smudging of makeup under her eyes, she looked irresistibly sexy.

Suddenly, this whole being-friends-with-a-woman thing was shot to hell. Did she even realize what she was doing to him?

"You going to bed?" he asked, his voice thick, trying desperately to maintain control of a somewhat precarious situation.

"Yeah. I'm really, really tired."

"Okay." Sam nodded, and Andy suddenly felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It almost felt like he was undressing her with his eyes..._That's ridiculous, Andy. Stop it._

"So, the couch is all made up. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge, though don't expect much to be in there."

Sam smiled at her. "Thanks, McNally. Go get some sleep - " He was cut off by a sudden scream and a thudding against the front door. He grabbed his gun from where he had placed it and motioned for Andy to get behind him. He made his way to the door and looked through the peephole outside. The distorted sight of a blond woman on her phone was the last thing he had expected to see. He cracked the door open, and heard a high-pitched female voice.

"Shut up. Shut up! Are you serious?"

"Ma'am...ma'am, would you keep it down please? Some of us are trying to sleep," he said, both irritated at the inconsiderate behavior and relief that it wasn't one of the cartel's cronies come to kill his rookie. He ignored her incredulous look at his gun and shut the door. He turned around and grinned at Andy.

"False alarm," he said. Was it just his imagination, or was she closer to him than before?

"Sam..." she whispered, closing the gap between them. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. The intimate motion caught him momentarily off guard; then he pulled her closer into him, sharply inhaling as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, her eyelashes and hot breath against his bare skin setting off all kinds of sensations within him, but none were stronger than the exhilarating feeling of having her in his arms again. He closed his eyes, resting his lips against her wet hair.

Eventually, she broke away from him, her eyes heavy lidded. "Thanks for being here," she said simply.

Sam's eyes flickered down to her lips, then back up. "You're welcome," he replied, smiling softly. "Go get some sleep, Andy. If anything happens, I'll be here."

"Okay." She walked away towards her bedroom, closing the door behind her. The lack of his arms around her left her aching. She could still faintly smell Sam's familiar mixture of leather and soap.

She let out a frustrated sigh. Yes, it had been an impulsive move, hugging him, but she had needed to _feel_ him, just one more time, so that she could finally forget the feeling of his embrace.

Problem was, Sam's touch, and the feelings it created within her, was like a drug. One time was all it needed to become addicted. Every time she found herself in his arms, or even just touching him accidentally with her fingers, she promised herself that was the last time, but it was useless, because every time created an ever bigger craving.

She turned off the lights, crawling into bed. Hopefully, with any luck, she would be able to sleep with the knowledge that Sam was in the next room.

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_He saw her being beaten, heard her screaming in pain. He wanted to help her, he needed to get to her, but he physically couldn't move. All he could do was watch in horror as they tortured her. He opened his mouth to yell for them to stop, but nothing came out. His eyes widened in fear as one of the men took out a gun and placed it to her skull. He heard her screaming, "Sam! Sam!" but all he could do was look on in anguish. The man turned to him and smiled sadistically._

_Bang._

Sam woke up covered in a cold sweat, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in his ears. His heart pounded, his hands were clammy. The dream had been too real for him to ignore; the images felt like they had been imprinted in his mind. He flung off the covers and followed the soft glow of the hallway light to Andy's room. He quietly opened the door, and saw her sleeping in her bed. The light spilled around her, casting a soft halo around her peaceful features. His breathing slowed to normal as he gazed on her. She looked like an angel.

She was safe, breathing, very much alive. And he intended to keep her that way.

He couldn't lose her, not now, and not ever.

He didn't know how, but he was going to make damn well sure he changed her bad luck into good.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys!_

_Thanks for all your lovely reviews so far. Here's the next chapter. _

_Hope you all enjoy! xx_

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An incessant ringing in Andy's ears gradually awakened her. After groggily looking around for the cause of the noise, she realized it was her cell phone. She picked it up off her bedside table.

"Yeah, Andy here," she answered blearily.

"McNally, do you like your eggs scrambled or sunny side up?" Sam's voice sounded oddly distorted to her still sleep-sensitive ears, and the odd question didn't clear up her confusion.

"What?"

"I'm at the little cafe around the corner. We need to eat, and you didn't have any breakfast food in your apartment. Actually, you didn't have any food."

"Well, excuse me if my shifts haven't exactly left me any time to go to the store." She sat up in the bed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Look, I have to order. I'm already asking the waitress to do enough already with the takeout, so again, how do you like your eggs?"

"Um, scrambled, I guess," she answered, still confused at the very odd conversation.

"Gotcha. See you in twenty. And McNally, don't worry about any cartel guys coming after you while I'm gone. I called in a favor from a buddy in 17th, so he's watching you right now."

"I'm sorry, what?" Andy got out of the bed and wrapped a blanket around her.

"Look outside your window. He should be there."

She obliged his request, pulling back the blinds, and sure enough, Sam was right. There was a squad car with a uniformed cop leaning against it, his eyes trained on her floor. Seeing her in the window, he gave a friendly wave, his sunglasses reflecting the building. She waved back before letting the blinds down.

"Wow. You must have pulled in a pretty big favor to have him babysit someone he hardly knows."

"Yeah, well, I saved his ass a couple of years ago during a drug bust. This was the least he could do for me. I didn't want you dead just because I went out to get hot breakfast for us," Sam's voice held a tinge of humor, but Andy understood the undertones of what he had just said.

"Thanks Sam."

"Yeah, McNally." The line disconnected.

Andy sat back down on her bed, the blanket still wrapped around her. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of Sam going out and getting breakfast for her.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she was still sitting in the same spot when she heard a knock at the door. Shedding the blanket, she got up and opened it for Sam.

He was again momentarily lost for words at the sight of Andy in nothing but a shirt, with her hair slightly messy from bed. And again, unwelcome thoughts ran through his mind revolving around her.

"Breakfast," he said, after he regained his voice. Couldn't she at least put on something else? _She probably doesn't realize what she looks like, _he thought._ Sexy without knowing it. God, that's hot._

He quickly clamped down on that train of thought, instead making his way to the kitchen table and setting out the various cartons he had brought in.

"You've got your scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, and pancakes. They didn't have sausages, sorry." He looked at her, realizing just how much he wanted to please her. How much he _needed _to please her.

Her face lit up in a smile that made his heart stop. "Sam, this is amazing. You're amazing. Thank you."

"Yeah, well..." he trailed off, shrugging as he grinned lopsidedly at her. "We can't have you starving to death while you're holed up here." He handed her a cup. "Double shot with a pump of caramel."

She smiled again, taking the cup of coffee from him. "You remembered." They sat down at the table, and Andy realized just how hungry she was.

She crossed her legs, and Sam was painfully aware of just how high the shirt rode, exposing the skin of her smooth, tanned legs. He forced himself to look away.

She took a bite of of the bacon, moaning in pleasure. He shifted uncomfortably at the sound of her moan, not proud of his thoughts.

"So, tell me how you saved you're buddy," she jerked her hand towards the window, "because you made it sound pretty heroic."

Sam grinned. "You have no idea."

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Andy stood in the shower, the hot water cascading over her a welcome feeling. She still couldn't believe that she had spent a whole day with Sam outside of their work, which was mentioned only a handful of times in the otherwise lengthy conversations they had had.

She was amazed at how they had never run out of things to talk about. She felt as if Sam was a mystery wrapped up in another mystery; as soon as she felt she had figured him out, another tidbit of personal information would shoot her theory to hell and she would be back at square one.

They had talked about their families, their childhoods. He had told her the rest of the jokes he had memorized when he was in nine, and she had laughed at every single one of them...never mind the fact that they were incredibly lame. She found herself laughing a lot with Sam. It felt good.

The Sunday cartoons had been another source of entertainment for them. They had laid out the papers on the table and read their favorite ones, and she couldn't help thinking that she would like to spend every Sunday reading the paper with Sam. It felt natural.

Any lingering awkwardness over the night of the blackout had been erased over the course of the day. She had found herself letting Sam past her barriers, allowing him glimpses of her soul. In return, he had given her glimpses of his. She smiled at the thought of where she had last left him, sprawled out on the couch, watching the last inning of the Toronto Blue Jays game.

For a split second, she had let herself imagine what it would be like, to have Sam in her life every day. Not just as work partners, but as partners in every sense. To allow herself to acknowledge her feelings for him, and to act on those feelings. To have every day be like this day. Him bringing her breakfast...them reading the Sunday paper together...them laughing over her pathetic attempts at scavenging up something to eat from her meager rations of food...

And then there had been the glances, the strategic placement of his hand on her back, or the brushing of fingers as they cleaned the dishes, or his steady gaze with his unreadable eyes as he watched her laugh. Every time he looked at her, a strange fluttering in her stomach began, something she had gotten used to over the months, but somehow had intensified over the past twelve hours.

She turned off the water, stepping out of the shower. She dried off, quickly getting dressed in a different pair of black underwear and a dark gray Raptors shirt similar to the Blue Jays one she had worn last night.

She let herself out of the bathroom and walked into the living room, the post-game show flickering on the TV.

"So who won?" she asked. Sam turned his head to look at her, and for the umpteenth time that day, momentarily lost his voice, his mind going blank save for the image of the woman in front of him.

The day had been a much needed vacation from the worries of the world, and Andy McNally had been the perfect distraction. Of course, she was always a distraction to him, but today it was a good thing, since it didn't affect his work as it often did.

His intense physical attraction for she had become complemented by a growing respect and admiration as he had gotten to know her better over the day. Her gentle heart and playful spirit had been a soothing balm for his battered soul and the perfect antidote to the horrible atrocities he witnessed every day.

He found himself opening up to her intensely private parts of his life for no other reason than he wanted to. He wanted to share his life with her, and he wanted Andy to share hers with him. And she had. He knew he was one of the privileged few to be allowed past her strongholds, and he counted himself lucky.

Maybe she wasn't unlucky at all; maybe things just happened to her. He couldn't imagine a person as beautifully pure as Andy McNally being targeted by the unfairness of karma.

And so the day had flown by. When she had gone to take a shower, he had allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have Andy in his life every day, in every capacity. He had accepted the fact that he was irrevocably in love with her a while back, but now, being with her in a personal way, outside of work, made him realize just how wonderful it would be to have Andy with him, every day...forever.

He had somewhat satisfied his personal desire for her through their conversations, laughter, and overall companionship, but fully realized it would take a lifetime with her to be completely satisfied. But looking at her now, her long legs just barely hidden under her shirt, her hair wet from the shower, and her gorgeous lips that he couldn't take his eyes off, he realized his physical desire for her wasn't satisfied at all...and probably never would be. In fact, the events of today had probably just compound his desire for her - being so close to her all day, but yet unable to do so much.

Andy keenly noted the way his eyes kept running up and down her body. She heard his voice answer her question, but didn't hear the actual words.

Instead, she simply nodded and asked if he wanted a beer. She made her way to the kitchen, acutely aware of Sam's gaze on her. She was starting to feel rather hot and bothered. Shaking her head, she opened up the fridge.

Sam couldn't stop running his gaze over her body. Up, down, up, down...he couldn't take it anymore. He knew he might regret it later, but knew he would never get another chance like this.

Andy jumped at the sudden feeling of hands on her hips. She didn't dare turn around as Sam pressed his body against her back.

"McNally," he murmured, kissing her neck. His hot breath against her skin coupled with the cool air from the open fridge set off every possible sensation in her body. She moaned softly as he moved his hands downwards, his lips never leaving her skin.

"Sam," she whispered, tilting her head back to allow him more access. She arched her back as he touched her bare leg. "Sam," she began again.

"Don't over think it, Andy."

And with that sentence, she surrendered complete control. He whirled her around so that she faced him. Shutting the refrigerator door with one hand, he pushed her against it, pressing himself against her harder as he devoured her mouth in an all-consuming kiss. He didn't remember that he had promised himself never to lose control again after the night of the blackout.

What he did remember was the taste of her, the feeling of her lips. And it was better than he had remembered.

He ran his hands down her body, hissing at the realization that she wasn't wearing a bra. His hands went down to her legs, reveling in the feeling of her bare skin.

He lifted her up so that she settled on his hips. He lost his balance momentarily, causing them to stumble across the kitchen. He found himself with his back against a wall.

She ran her hands through his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. His lips left hers for a second, trailing down her neck. Then they returned back to hers, and she rocked her hips against his, grabbing the back of his shirt to stay around his waist.

He growled as her fingers found her way under his shirt and ran down his chest, trailing to the top of his jeans.

She somehow found herself shirtless, with Sam soon following suit. Her mouth parted to allow him full access as he hungrily kissed her.

Stumbling their way to her bedroom, he gently laid her on the bed, his lips slowly, tortuously making their way down her neck to her chest and stomach. She gasped for air at the sensations, a whimper escaping that was cut off by his lips covering hers again. His hands found their way to her legs, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare skin.

They were completely lost to the world, completely consumed by their desire for each other. Nothing else existed except for the other, with each new second bringing more pleasure than imaginable.

And so the night went on, a continuous time period that consisted of the two of them, with each other. No pauses, no regrets. Just each other.


	3. Chapter 3

The enticing aroma of coffee and bacon tempted Andy's eyes open. For a moment, she was momentarily confused at her surroundings - it was her room, that much she knew, but then who was cooking breakfast in the kitchen?

A rush of memories flooded her mind as she looked at the faint imprint on the mattress next to her.

Sam.

A strange pattern took hold of her heartbeat at the thought of him...and last night. Her cheeks flushed at the thoughts and flashbacks that were running rampant through her mind. It had been the best sex of her life, no doubt about that. She only wondered how their relationship would be affected now.

Her growling stomach overruled her racing mind, cutting short her over thinking. Wrapping a blanket around her bare shoulders, she padded through the hallway and into the kitchen. The sound of her footsteps alerted Sam to her presence.

"Morning sunshine," he said with a grin. "Coffee?" He moved to pour her a cup, which she took gratefully.

"What are you, some sort of secret master chef?" she asked, taking a sip of the rich liquid. She reached for a strip of bacon that was sitting on a plate near her, but he swatted her hand away.

"I'm not done yet. Don't you want to wait until the waffles are done?"

"No, not...wait, you made waffles too?"

"Chocolate chip. If I remember correctly, those are your favorites," he said.

"Sam, I told you that at least six months ago. How did you remember that?" she asked, amazed that he would still know that insignificant fact about her.

"I pay attention McNally. I don't tune you out all the time," he said, smiling at her. She smiled back, finding herself lost in his dark eyes. Nothing was said for a while as they gazed at each other.

"Are we good?" she asked finally, her voice abnormally high and breathy. She half expected him to say that they were good, and just slide last night into the "disregard" pile along with everything else, or that they weren't good, and that last night was a massive mistake.

What she didn't expect was for him to close the gap between them and kiss her lightly on the lips.

"You tell me," he said softly, rubbing his nose against hers like he had done the night of the blackout so many months ago. Her heart skipped a beat at the intimate motion, and she ran a hand up his bare chest.

"Yeah, we're good. We're definitely good. I mean, I think we are. Right?" she asked, biting her lip.

He laughed at her failed attempt at nonchalance. "Yes, McNally, we are. This is one situation where I definitely don't want you to over think it."

"Yes sir," she murmured, pulling him closer for another kiss. He deepened it, gently sliding the blanket off. He slowly trailed his fingers over her bare skin.

The ding of the waffle maker interrupted their re-exploration of each other.

"Go put a shirt on. I won't be able to focus on eating breakfast with you sitting there half naked," he teased, pushing her towards the bedroom.

"The same could be said for you," she retorted of her shoulder. She quickly threw on the first thing she saw, which happened to be Sam's black shirt. She wandered back to the kitchen, fully noticing Sam's appreciative glance.

"Who knew you'd look better in my shirt than I did?" he said with a low wolf whistle. She laughed, sitting down in front of an extremely full plate. She took a bite of the waffle, relishing the taste.

"Good God Sam, you can come and cook for me anytime," she said, the words out of her mouth before she thought them through. She froze, looking at him through her dark lashes, unsure of his response. To her relief, he grinned and leaned forward on the counter.

"I'll be holding you to that offer," he said, flashing her his dimpled smile, "you won't be able to get rid of me."

"I think I can live with that," she said back, licking the maple syrup off her lips. "Thank you, by the way, for everything."

"For what - protecting you, cooking breakfast, or rocking your world last night?" he said with a devilish grin.

"You are too cocky for your own good," she teased. She caught her breath as he moved quickly to stand behind her, putting his hands on her hips.

"But it was pretty damn good, wasn't it?" he murmured, tickling her ear with his breath. Against her will, she arched her back as he began kissing her neck.

The ringing of her cell phone pulled both of them out of their reverie. Andy let out a frustrated sigh as she grabbed her phone from the counter, quickly checking the caller ID. **Dov.**

"What the hell do you want Epstein?" she said in an annoyed tone. "Wait, Chris, what are you doing with Dov's phone?"

Sam watched her countenance change from annoyed to baffled to... "Oh my God. Chris, Chris..._Chris_, calm _down_. We're on our way." She hung up the phone, and turned to Sam. He saw pure, undulated fear in her eyes, like a deer in the cross hairs of a rifle. She took an unsteady step towards him, and he gripped her arm when she faltered. She opened her mouth several times, unable to speak, when finally, she did.

"Dov's been shot."


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys! So sorry I haven't updated recently...the worst writer's block in the history of writer's block took me hostage for about two weeks._

_Anyways, this chapter is a bit more serious and less McSwarek-y than the previous three, but only because of Dov's getting shot. So sorry if that's a bit disappointing, but hopefully not too much!_

_As always, please review, I live for them, plus they give me that extra oomph to continue writing. Hope you all enjoy! xx

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Andy was silent on the ride to the hospital, a rarity to Sam's ears. It was disconcerting to see her wordless, the silence foreboding. He glanced over at her still form, her hands clenched into balls on her lap, her head turned to gaze out the window. He could see her jaw clenching and unclenching in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. He found himself wanting to hear her voice, to hear her talk, even if it was just random words.

"Andy," he started.

"Don't talk, Sam. Please, I just don't want to talk."

"Okay."

His quiet agreement fell deaf on her ears. Her eyes looked out the window at the passing scenery but registered nothing. A single tear slipped down her face and she angrily scrubbed it away with her knuckles. Her breathing hitched every other minute or so, her mind switching between thoughts of Dov and berating of herself.

How selfish had she been? She had been so consumed with Sam that she hadn't even given a thought to Dov and Noelle's safety. Hell, he could have been shot at the very moment that she and Sam had been having sex. The thought of Dov Epstein lying on the floor, riddled with the bullets of some Mexican cartel's gun, made her sick.

She had never had any siblings. She had always wanted a brother, to play football with, to fight with, to protect her in high school from the boys that were trouble. She had always thought that if she had just had a brother to fill the father role Tommy McNally had left vacant for twelve years, she could have sidestepped a lot of the bad decisions she had made.

Dov Epstein wasn't her brother, but he was the closest thing she had.

"It should have been me!" she blurted out, the sentence out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. Sam lurched forward in his seat at her words.

"McNally, don't you ever say that again," he growled, slamming on the brakes as the traffic light ahead turned red. He took the opportunity to turn in his seat towards her.

"But..."

"No. No. You're not allowed to think that."

"Why?" She was crying now, the tears flowing against her will.

"Because Dov would kick your ass if he heard you say those words. Because you're not allowed to play the martyr role that you so often do. Because if you got shot..." he trailed off, turning back forward as the light turned green. It was several seconds before he spoke again.

"Andy, if you died, there would be nothing that could stop me from following." Her ragged breathing stopped. His words tore through her, racking her body with another sob.

"Sam," she whispered. She didn't know how to put her feelings into words. What he had just said made her head spin and her heart stop. She fully knew that he had just told her he loved her, his roundabout declaration almost enough to stop her frightened obsession with Dov's well-being. Almost, but not quite. She wanted to say it back to him, but couldn't juggle both emotions of fear and love at the same time.

"I'm scared," she said instead.

"I know," he whispered back, reaching across the car. His hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. "Me too."

They passed the rest of the trip in silence, Andy never letting go of Sam's hand. When they pulled into the hospital parking lot, he took her other hand and pulled her into him across the console. He gently raised their intertwined hands to her face, wiping her tear-streaked cheek with his thumb.

"You ready?" he asked, his dark eyes searching her bloodshot ones. She nodded.

"Yeah."

They walked into the hospital, their hands no longer held together. Sam did, however, allow himself some small form of physical contact as he placed a hand on the small of her back. The elevator ride up to the ICU was quiet save for the trembling breaths of Andy. He guided her out of the elevator and towards the desk, where a male nurse was sitting.

"What room is Dov Epstein in?" Sam asked, his voice brusque.

"I'm sorry sir, I can't give that information out if you're not family or - " his sentence was cut short when Sam showed him his badge. "Room 28," he said quietly, gesturing in the general direction.

"Traci!" Andy's voice echoed down the hall as she caught sight of her. She quickened her step, Sam following close behind. "How is he?"

"He just woke up," Gail interjected, the blond woman's normally terse voice subdued. "Chris is with him now."

"That was quick," Sam said, surprised. Andy hadn't been called more than half an hour ago.

"We were all called when he was in surgery, so you didn't really miss anything," Traci said. "We've all seen him, Andy. You should go in."

She nodded, casting a quick glance at Sam, who smiled slightly at her. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the room.

"Hey Chris," she said quietly, wrapping her arm around his waist as his encircled her shoulders. "Hey Dov, you're looking not so hot buddy."

"Andy?" Dov asked, his voice hoarse from the leftover anesthetic.

"Getting shot by a Mexican drug cartel, that's totally rock-and-roll, Epstein," she said, smiling down at him as she gingerly took his hand in hers.

"You and me both, McNally," he grinned back up at her. His face scrunched up slightly as he took in her appearance. "Um, McNally..." he started, his eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Yeah, Dov?"

"Isn't that Sam's shirt?"


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! Thank you for your amazing reviews once again! I cranked this chapter out pretty fast (so as to not retract on my promise to ClassicBeauty23) so I'm a bit iffy on it. _

_As always, please review! I've seriously been so motivated to continue with this story because of all your feedback, so please keep it coming! Hope you enjoy! xx

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A blush crept up Andy's cheeks before she could stop it. Her hands went to the black fabric she was wearing and tugged it down self consciously.

"It's not what you think; it was the first thing I grabbed off the floor when I got the call. You're lucky I put on a shirt at all with the state I was in," she laughed weakly.

"Why was Sam's shirt on your floor?" Dov's eyes narrowed as he looked more closely at the tee that she was wringing in her hands. "Oh good God, McNally, are you even wearing a bra?"

"Look Dov, just drop it! And you shouldn't even be looking there, moron!" She wrapped her arms around her chest, utterly mortified at her lapse in cognizant thinking.

"You're doing Swarek. Oh my God you're totally doing him!" he practically leaped off the bed in excitement. "Chris, what did I tell you? It was only a matter of time, that's what I always said! I was totally right...ow!" He winced as his erratic movements caused a searing pain to course through his right side.

She looked up at Chris for support in refuting Dov's claims, but all he could do was stare at her.

"Oh like you've never slept with a coworker before," she snapped. "Gail Peck ring a bell?"

"Hey, don't bite my head off because you're regretting it," Chris said, her aggravated tone evidently hurting him.

"I don't - " she trailed off, unwilling to finish that sentence in front of the two men.

"It's like my luck was transferred to you. Though I totally would have gotten shot sooner if I knew it would result in you and Swarek _finally_ getting it on," Dov said, his ashen face brightened by the two red spots on his cheeks brought on by his discovery. "Swarek!" he yelled, lifting a hand with considerable pain and waving through the slits of curtains that currently adorned the window that separated his room from the hallway.

"Don't you dare," Andy hissed, her eyes burning into Dov's, "or else I swear I will tell about your man crush on him." Dov's shocked expression satisfied her momentarily that he wouldn't bring up his extremely unfortunate ascertainment.

"Hey there Epstein," Sam drawled, entering the room cautiously. "Getting shot's a bitch, ain't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, totally. Good thing it wasn't Andy though, right?"

"Good thing." Sam refused to say anything else on the subject. "You weren't so lucky though."

"Nope, guess my karma wasn't good enough to get me some - " His sentence was cut off by a strangled yelp as Andy jostled the hospital bed, disturbing the delicate position he was laying in.

"Obviously the loopy gas is still in his system," Chris interjected, meeting Andy's eyes with a smile as she mouthed a 'thank you' to him. Sam looked between the two with a bemused, if not slightly irritated, expression on his face.

A nurse walked through the door, her slightly graying hair frizzing away from her tight ponytail.

"Alright everyone, clear the room. Officer Epstein has had enough excitement for one day," she said ushering the three cops out of the door with a maternal sweep of her hand. "And you can tell your friends out there that non-familial visitors are done for the night."

"She kicked us out," Sam said with a shrug as Oliver met the trio with an inquisitive look. "We should go home. If something happens, they'll call us."

"I'm staying with Epstein." Shaw said, moving towards the closed door.

"No more visitors buddy. You're not family," Sam began to say, but Oliver cut him off.

"Then I'll lie," he said with a crooked grin as he turned the knob and disappeared into the room.

"Well, I'm going home. McNally, you need a ride?" Sam's question was brusque and non-emotional, with only Chris realizing just what that proposition entailed.

"Yeah, that would be great," she answered quietly, shooting Chris a nervous glance before walking down the corridor and turning the corner towards the elevators. They stood in silence, Andy's fingers tapping against her sides in unjustified nervousness. It wasn't until they entered the elevator and the doors slid closed behind them that Sam pulled her into him.

"McNally," he whispered, his lips moving against her hair, unwilling to say anything else in case the onslaught of emotions he was currently feeling overran his ability to talk.

She let him hold her, wrapping her arms around his waist, content to simply be in his arms. After a few seconds, curiosity as to his odd behavior got the best of her.

"What's wrong Sam?" she asked quietly. The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. He unwillingly let her out of his embrace, settling for the occasional brush of fingertips as they walked.

"Sam?" she pressed, stopping in the middle of the lobby. "Sam..."

"It could have been you Andy. There was a one in three chance that it would have been you. That's too big a number for me." His jaw clenched and unclenched, mirroring his fists at his sides.

"You were fine upstairs. What changed from one minute ago?"

"Nothing! Nothing changed."

"But you seemed - "

"It's called acting, McNally. I'm pretty good at it," he said, exasperated, his lingering, unsettling fear slipping through the cracks in his carefully placed mask of calm.

They stood in the lobby for an unknown amount of time, just staring at each other, a wide range of emotions running rampant over their features.

"I'm fine Sam. It wasn't me." Andy stepped towards him, taking his wrists in her hands, running her fingers over his skin. "You're always the one who's telling me to not over think it. So don't you start doing it also. One of us with that trait is more than enough in this partnership." She smiled at him, her eyes conveying a sense of security that she so desperately needed to feel herself.

"I think your bad habits are rubbing off on me," he said, grinning back, a small smile at first, slowly growing.

"Damn straight, sir. I have other habits too, you know...other traits and things like that," she murmured, lowering her voice with a seductive curve of her lip. His smile grew wider.

"I wouldn't mind getting to know those habits," he teased back, slipping his arm around her waist. She slid her hand down his shirt until it reached the back pocket of his jeans, his eyes widening slightly at the action until she quickly lifted the ring of keys in the air.

"I'm driving," she said, laughing lightly as she skipped out the front doors of the hospital, the bright sunshine encircling her. Sam shook his head in amazement at the beauty that he was lucky enough to be beholding at that moment.

The sound of various birds singing and the quiet, monotonous hum of the freeway close by was suddenly broken by three rapid gunshots.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! First off, I want to apologize profusely for not updating sooner. Life is just so hectic and things, like this story, just got pushed aside. So here's the sixth chapter, though much overdo. _

_Also, sorry that it's a bit short, but I felt the need to really focus on the first few minutes after the shooting...they just seemed really important for some reason._

_As always, please review! They make me so happy and also motivate me to crank out more chapters. And to all who have reviewed/favorited, I am truly, truly grateful. Hope you all enjoy! xx

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_

Five seconds earlier, the telltale glint of a firearm from the far side of the parking lot had Sam throwing himself in front of Andy, his protection mode kicking into over-drive, overruling his self preservation. Five seconds later, the gunshots rang out, leaving people screaming and ducking for cover, a group of birds taking off in frantic flight from the nearby oak tree.

Sam dropped like a stone.

He had been shot before, but the pain had never been so great as it was at that moment. He opened his mouth to scream, the white hot lead that ripped through his body leaving a trail of excruciating pain, as if his very being was consumed in fire, but only a strangled cry came out.

He looked up at the sun, the bright ball radiating heat on his face. A single wisp of cloud floated across the sky, darkening the sun momentarily, the change in light stilling his writhing movements.

Andy lay with her back flat against the pavement, knocked down from Sam's push. She looked over at him, her face contorting in horror.

_"Sam!"_ she screamed, scrambling up and crawling over to him. A dark pool of blood seeped onto the concrete, filling the tiny cracks in the asphalt. She touched his face, her fingernails digging into his skin. "No, no, Sam, _Sam_!" She looked down at his stomach, the two small but gaping holes greedily sucking the life out of him as they gleefully bled him out. There was so much blood...

Without thinking, she ripped the bottom half of the black shirt she was wearing - _his_ shirt - and knotted it into a ball, pressing the fabric against his wounds. The horrifying shriek that erupted from his mouth at the pressure was almost too much for Andy to bear, the salty tears that fell from her eyes mixing with the already blood-soaked shirt that she was pressing against him.

Her hysteria prevented her from realizing that the arms that enveloped her were those of a medic, and she thrashed against the hands that were holding her arms down firmly, pulling her away from the man lying motionless on the ground.

"_No!_ Sam! No!" Those two words were the only ones left in her vocabulary, her cries slowly growing weaker as she watched the four medics work on Sam. By the time they had lifted him onto the black gurney, her screams had stopped completely, silent apart from the tears rushing down her face.

Sam was in complete agony. If there was a hell, he was in it. The pain was too much for him to bear, and he blacked out momentarily before regaining consciousness like he had done four times already. When he came around again, he was inside the hospital, looking wildly around him, his eyes straining against the harsh lights, his ears ringing from the mixture of screams and shouted orders, the jostling of the rolling gurney amplifying the rolls of nauseating pain that were engulfing him. As he was rolled around the corner, the opening of the automatic hospital doors revealed a hysterical woman running into the lobby, headed straight for him.

"Andy..." he whispered, the word sending another wave of agony through him.

"Ma'am, you have to..." The blond haired medic was cut off by a wild look from Andy.

"I'm coming with you," she said quietly, taking a hold of one of Sam's hands, her eyes fixating on his fluttering ones.

"Only to the operating room," the medic agreed quickly, and Sam was once again thrown into physical torture as he was rolled over a small bump in the carpeted floor, his tight grip on Andy's hand causing a small whimper to escape from her lips.

There were various voices around him, authoritative tones that were saying something along the lines of A-positive blood...operating room three...page Doctor Timothy stat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the sight scaring Andy more than it should have.

"Ma'am, you have to leave now."

Those words Sam understood perfectly, a panic starting to take the place of his pain. "Andy - " he began, gripping her hand tighter than he thought possible. He struggled to stay conscious, his ashen face contorting in distress.

He knew that he wasn't going to make it. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what had happened at all. But he knew that he needed to tell her, before it was too late...before he died.

"Andy, I love you."

She stood there, the tears streaming down her face, a choked sob rising from her throat at his simple declaration. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out.

"Ma'am - " the medic shoved her forcefully back, causing her hand to break contact with Sam's. They rolled him into the sterile operating room, leaving her standing there alone, her mouth covered with blood-stained fingers.

Arms once again enveloped her, this time a warm chocolate brown that let her know she was in her best friend's embrace. Multiple sets of hurried footsteps echoed behind the two women standing in the hallway, the rest of the cops getting to the scene too late, but for that moment, it was just her and Traci, as it had always been for as long as she could remember.

Andy pressed her face against the woman's sturdy neck, her cries convulsing her body, racking her with anguish, fear...and guilt.

She hadn't said it back.

And now it might be too late.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey guys! So this chapter is pretty fluffy towards the end...but then again, who doesn't need fluff in their life once in a while, especially when it's McSwarek fluff?_

_Anyways, as always please please review! They make me so happy and motivate me to update sooner...which I do need to do (sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long with this story!). But in all honesty, I'm actually kind of disappointed with the way this chapter turned out. I feel like it's not some of my best stuff - so tell me honest!  
_

_Hope you all enjoy! xx

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_

_It's too late. It's too late._

The voice inside her head chided her, taunting her with what had been left unsaid.

_Andy, I love you._

Why? Why had he said that? Why couldn't he have waited until... This was as far as she always got on this stream of consciousness, because the next image that came with that thought was of Sam laying on the ground, his crimson blood pooling around him, and then her mind would shut down into blackness, the guilt and fear too much for her psyche to withstand.

She rocked back and forth, her lower lip trembling as she wiped her palms on her thighs over and over, as if she was trying to rid herself of the unseen stains of his blood on her hands that were only visible to her.

She hadn't realized she had begun to cry again until a strong arm enveloped her shoulders. Thinking it was Traci, she looked up and was surprised to see Oliver Shaw as the one holding her.

"Oh Andy," he murmured, stroking her hair in such a fatherly way that her heart broke more than she thought was possible. Leaning into him, she let the tears fall, too far gone to be ashamed of showing weakness in front of a fellow officer.

They stayed like that for a while, the surrogate father and the lost child, weeping together for the uncertainty of death.

"It's my fault if he dies," she murmured, her voice hoarse from crying. Shaw gripped her shoulder tighter, digging his fingers into her skin.

"Don't you ever say that again, McNally," he said fiercely.

"But Sam was protecting _me._ He's going to die because of _me._"

"First off, Sam's not going to die. Second of all, do you really think Sam wouldn't have protected you? He's your _partner_ Andy."

The way he said that last sentence left no doubt in her mind that he knew about them. That he knew that Sam loved her.

"I didn't say it back," she whispered.

The confession shocked her to her very core. Perhaps it was because Shaw was the one who was with her now in her hour of weakness. Perhaps it was because over the last four hours, the guilt had eroded her heart down until she couldn't comprehend what was acceptable to say and what was unacceptable.

Or perhaps she said it because she had needed to get it out in the open. Whatever was the reason though, it was said, and she couldn't take it back.

Oliver's reaction surprised her even more.

"I know," he whispered back. "I'm sorry."

Nothing more was said between them. His arm stayed around her shoulder, the physical warmth of his embrace a comfort during the next two hours. Officers from various precincts came and went, sitting for no more than a few minutes. Noelle stayed until eleven o'clock, then left with Traci.

But Oliver stayed with Andy until the doors swung open and a doctor with an exhausted expression walked out.

"Officer Swarek is stable at the moment. The surgery was a success and we managed to get out all the fragments from the bullets. He won't wake for another half hour or so, but you can see him now."

Andy realized he expected them to follow, and with a look of trepidation and excitement she glanced at Oliver.

"I should get home to see my girls," he said with a tired smile. "I'll come around first thing in the morning." He squeezed her hand before walking away.

She followed the doctor down the winding corridor, half aware of the vast emptiness of the building due to the fact that it was one in the morning.

"I'll leave you alone, but I advise you don't stay for more than a few minutes," he said brusquely, stopping in front of room 14. The number was somehow vaguely familiar, but she was too preoccupied to bother thinking about why.

She entered with nervousness. There was a drawn curtain separating the room in half, with another patient no doubt on the far end of the room on the other side of the blue fabric. A soft light was shining from overhead, glinting off the white metal bed. And in the middle of that bed was a man lying sleeping.

That man was Sam Swarek.

A small sob escaped her lips at the sight of him in front of her, safe and very much alive. She crossed to the chair next to the bed and sat down hesitantly, taking his hand in her own, thanking God that it was as warm and strong as it had been the last time she had held it.

Her movements caused a fluttering of Sam's eyelids as he stirred awake. His eyelids opened, and she almost wept at the dark eyes looking back at her through his drug-induced haze.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Andy," he replied, his mouth curving in a lopsided smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he blinked away the remaining anesthetic.

"You idiot!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "You could have died!"

He didn't reply, just looked at her with that unnerving gaze that set off butterflies in her stomach.

"Come here," he said finally, lifting up the thin blanket off his legs, shifting over to one side of the bed.

"What?"

"I'm not fighting with you right now Andy. Now get in the damn bed and let me hold you."

His tone left no room for argument. She climbed into the bed and laid next to him, trying not to jostle him lest she set off any unneeded pain. He laced his fingers through hers and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Sam?" she said after a while.

"What McNally?"

"I love you too."


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! Here's the eighth chapter for this story. Not really a plot-pusher, but more of a focus on the marvelousness of McSwarek. Please review, they make me so happy! Hope you all enjoy! xx_

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The first thing that drifted into Andy's consciousness was the number 14. She kept her eyes closed, her mind slowly awakening to the singular thought. She rolled the number around in her brain, the two digits becoming interchangeable, as she tried to focus her still groggy thoughts into some form of coherence.

"I know you're awake, McNally," Sam's voice was low in her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

"How?" she asked in the same quiet tone, becoming slowly aware of the horrible ache in her back that was no doubt due to the very uncomfortable position she had fallen asleep in.

"You're breathing changed."

"You were listening to my breathing patterns?"

"There wasn't really much else to do until you woke up," he replied, a smile slowly creeping across his face as he looked down at the peaceful features of the woman in his arms. "You're beautiful," he whispered, almost reverently, and was rewarded with a curving upwards of her lips.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she said with a grin, opening her eyes at last to stare into his endless dark orbs. "What do you want?"

"Can't you just take a compliment, McNally?"

"Usually when a guy tells me I'm beautiful, he either wants sex or something similar to sex. And I've never really been into the whole illicit hospital rendezvous, if that's what you were hoping." Her tone was teasing, but her eyes, so truthful and honest, held a certain seriousness and sadness that made him catch his breath in sorrow.

"That's a pity, since I think we'd have a hell of a time with it," he said with a slight smirk before his eyes softened. "But Andy, you are beautiful. And I can't promise you that I'll never use that compliment to get you into my bed, but you are the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on."

The extremely uncharacteristic exclamation of affection caught her off guard, and she struggled to maintain her indifferent, cool composure. "Just how much morphine are you on?"

He squinted his eyes and held up his thumb and forefinger close together. "Just a little bit." Their laughs were cut off by a gruff voice coming from the other side of the curtain that was hanging in the middle of the room.

"Could you guys shut up? Some of us are trying to recover from a life threatening illness."

"Who is that?" Sam whispered, his brow furrowing.

"You're roommate," Andy whispered back.

"Oh."

They stayed wrapped in each others' arms for a while longer, their breathing becoming in sync.

"Sam, my back is killing me. I have to get up," she murmured, arching her back. He groaned at the sudden intimate contact her movement caused as her body pressed against his.

"Andy, you can't rub all over me and then tell me you're leaving," he said, tightening his grip around her, dipping his head to the crook of her neck. "Stay."

"I have to go to work. Not all of us get to lay around all day, having our meals brought to us."

"I just got shot, McNally. A little sympathy would be appreciated."

Her expression fell from teasing to tense at his words. "You don't have to remind me."

"Remind you what?"

"That you got shot. Protecting me." She looked down at their fingers that were still intertwined and pulled her hand away, sitting up in the bed.

"Bullshit." His sudden angry tone surprised her, and she looked back at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't get to play that particular card. It's far too late in the game for that." She wondered what game he was referring to but he cut off her train of thought as he continued. "We're going to have a proper conversation about _us_ when your shift is done and when I get out of this god awful hellhole."

"Well that's not very nice, is it Mr. Swarek?" Another voice entered their conversation which belonged to the nurse that had just entered the room.

"Sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean it," he said, his expression rueful. He began to talk again when the gray haired woman interrupted.

"And what are you doing here, miss?" she asked, directing her chiding tone towards Andy. "Please don't tell me you were here the whole entire night."

"I wasn't?" Andy replied, half asking, half replying.

"You should probably go now before you get in trouble and I get fired," the nurse said, her eyes disapproving. Andy's mouth creased at the edges before turning away to leave.

"McNally?" Sam's voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned around, her expression softening at the look on his face.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Don't forget. We _will_ talk. I know you hate confrontations, but don't think of this as one."

"Okay," she answered, her voice gentle. She turned away again, only to be stopped for the second time by his voice.

McNally?"

"_Yes_, Sam?"

"Thanks for saying it back," he said with a grin, his dimples lighting up his face. "I'm glad I'm not unrequited anymore."

"Yeah, well, you were never really unrequited to begin with," she smiled shyly back. This time she made it out of the room without any more delays, an unnatural glow about her as she simply reveled in the knowledge that Sam had loved her for...well, since she had at least started to date Luke. Knowing that he had been in love with her for the better part of two years, knowing that she had been _wanted_ for that long, made her heart practically sing.

Until she realized the significance of the number fourteen.


	9. Chapter 9

_Hey guys! Happy Thanksgiving (even though I already said it when I update my other story, but you can never say it too many times)! This chapter is quite short, but I did want to squeeze it out and add it before the day got really too busy. So here it is!_

_As always, please review, they make me really happy and I'd be ever thankful (though I already am for all you wonderful reviewers and readers). Hope you all enjoy! xx

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Andy stood rooted to the spot where she was standing, her mind refusing to compute what was now too obvious, too clear, to ignore.

_No. No, it can't be. Not after all these years._

But that voice had been somewhat, vaguely, not really familiar. Maybe she was just being irrational. Maybe the adrenaline and sheer danger of what she had just gone through in the last thirty-six hours was bringing her dangerously close to the edge of psychosis.

But it was the same room number. Her father had always said that coincidences never exist. But maybe they did. Oh, how she desperately wished they did.

She remembered the letter her father had received several months ago, the contents enough to send him on a three-day binge that ended his six month sobriety.

_Mr. Thomas McNally...he has been hospitalized at...room 14...requesting visit..._

She tried to walk away, just to file away the pieces of memory that had come flashing back as a symptom of sleep-deprivation and coming back down off of an adrenaline high, but she couldn't. Not until she proved herself wrong. Not until she put her mind to rest with the knowledge that it _wasn't_ the person who was responsible for everything horrible and dark in her life.

She walked back into Sam's room, into _their_ room, half aware of her partner's concerned question and the nurse's squawking about her reappearance. Crossing the room, she took a hold of the blue fabric and pulled the curtain back.

There he was. _Him._

"You fucking bastard," she spat out, her knuckles turning white from her death grip on the flimsy curtain. Somewhere in the back of her mind her mother's voice screamed at her for the vulgarity of her speech, but she was too riled up to care.

"Bravo. You finally figured it out. Only took you...well, I wasn't really keeping track of the time. Thanks for finally visiting, by the way."

"How could you?" she cried out, her voice rising higher and higher in a semi-failed attempt to control the hysteria that was creeping over her. "I was there for the _whole night_. You just laid there, hearing everything we said."

"Very cute, you two. Nice to meet you, by the way," he said, leaning forward in his bed and lifting his hand in a friendly wave, his eyes locking with Sam's. "I'm Parker Bradley."

"Who?" Sam's voice cut through the air, his confusion overridden by the anger that was slowly seeping into him at the sight of this man. He didn't know who he was, or where he came from, but he and Andy obviously had a history. A bad one.

"You didn't bring out the family pictures and show me off? I'm hurt," Parker said, his smile cold as he looked back at Andy, holding her gaze as he spoke again. "I'm her brother."

The room was silent for a split second, Sam taking in the man across the room.

"You are _not_ my brother." Sam recognized that monotonous tone. She had shut down her emotions, only allowing a thin layer of anger to seep through the walls that had hastily been thrown up in the last minute.

"Do you really have to get all technical? Fine, _technically_, I'm not your brother. _Technically_, we're not related. Obviously," he said with a grin, gesturing between them with a hand, the motion sending a flash of pain across his face, and despite the hatred that was coursing through her body at the moment, she felt a sliver of compassion.

"The technicality is everything, Parker. Not to mention the fact that you booked it out of there as fast as you could the day you turned eighteen."

"They weren't supposed to put me in your house, _Andrea_. A drunk ex-cop with his belligerent daughter? What was the foster system thinking?" he mocked.

"Maybe they thought that living in a police officer's house would straighten you out. Of course it didn't though. Why would it?" She gave a short, biting laugh.

"I ain't blood related with you at all, chica."

"What?"

"Isn't that what you're saying? You just too politically correct to say it?"

"Oh, just shut up about your _heritage_ for once, will you? You know it's never been about that. And if you're so proud of your _real_ family, then of course you wouldn't mind me telling you what they've been up to while you've been rotting away in the hospital."

"McNally, calm down." Sam's voice once again cut into the conversation, this time cutting through the fog of red hot anger that was fueling her, but she was too worked up to calm down completely. She turned to face her partner, their eyes meeting, his steady gaze somewhat soothing her racing mind. Then she heard Parker coughing, and the rage came pouring back in.

"See that man, Sam?" she said, pointing to Parker, refusing to say his name. "He's a member of the cartel that shot you."


End file.
